"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
claws portrude, they kneed at the soil. Muscles coil under a coat of shimmering gold. Padded feet dig deeper into the sweet earth. Knees crouch and lean into the warm ground beneath him. Yellow eyes glint with perception.
Enormous jowls curl and wrinkle so that one could catch a glint of the white fangs underneath. Its almost as if he is wearing black lipstick, and eyeliner. He remains quiet. A low rumble from his throat is the only sound he makes. So far this was his favorite replication be far. Enormous, glorious, self-endulging, and above all it was the perfect cover for a silent stalker.
Tail flicks the end of the golden skin having what could be referred to as a golden puff ball. A fly buzzes in his ear, and he shakes out the golden mane. It shimmers as all his replications still do. He wasn't perfect at them by far, but they were very very helpful. A rough tongue licks at the long hair on his chest. Trying to rid himself of the itch. Before whispered face is looking out through the brush once more. In a crouch he leaves his cover trailing slowly into the tall grasses.
They would never see him coming. The golden wreath around his neck providing a slightly annoying distraction. He glances around, powerful haunches gathering for a pounce. When something catches his eye. He puzzles at it for a moment. Shimmering back into himself before anyone would notice the kingly cat. But the likelyhood of him going unnoticed. Well that still had to be determined. .
The scenery was decent enough she supposed. Tall grasses, warm spring breezes, a few flowers sprouting up here and there. Hardly a cloud graced the sky, and any that did were thin and wispy, not even large enough to provide a cool shade.
Quinn was damp, having just hopped out of a small creek for a quick bath. With the extra water her coat appeared jet black, brightly reflecting in the sun, almost a glare. The mare stood, flicking her tail in annoyance and looking out upon the lands. Red highlights shone through her mane and tail, perfectly accenting the diamond pattern on her hindquarters. Ah what a wonderful marking, a wonderful brand that made sure everyone else would remember her, not that she was easy to forget to begin with.
Harley moved forward, not at all ashamed to walk proudly and with a bit of arrogance. Afterall, she was gorgeous, might as well flaunt it. Her hoofs, red and clean, brushed through the grasses, and her dark orbs scanned the area. Here and there were stallions and mares, most of them already socializing but a few standing alone, though none of them looked in the least bit interesting. Most of them that were already chitchatting were the jocks and cheerleaders, hoping just to grasp at those few moments of attention to feed their egos, and those that were alone were the ones who wanted to be alone.
She stood for a moment, entirely uninterested in anyone she could see nearby. Her gaze wandered to the left, noting the strange courtship rituals that went on in this world. How is it that half of these mares just let themselves get taken advantage of? A rustling brought her attention over to the right, where suddenly a horse now stood. A large black brute, about her height. Quinn's eyes lit up, eager to know how he popped up. Quick to show herself off, Harley moved over to the stud, going right past his face and running her muzzle down his neck and shoulder, a slight swish of her tail towards him. "So watcha doing 'round here? Isn't there some damsel in distress you should be rescueing?" She kept moving around his body, keeping as much contact with him as possible, finally coming around the other side and standing next to him. Quinn reached over and bumped his cheek with her nose, "You can call my Harley, everyone else does."
His cat form disipated, as he shimmers into the veiw of his prey. She is brightly colored. Just as strange as all the creatures in this land seem to be in this land. His hoof stomps in frustration. Muscles rippling with the thud and plung of his weighty leg. They vibrate with the power of his draftly blood. All of his family was large. Not so large as to be pure draft. No they had the fine curves and lushious delicacy of any other horse around.
She aproaches, her eyes hinting to a mischief that he has yet to fully understand. The spring air sticky with the scent of excitement. An excitement that he has not yet comprehended. There is something iluded in the air that he is curious about. Something that makes his body thrum with heat. She aproaches steamy with drying water. Supple with pumping blood. Coy with amusment. She rolls up to him with a step that he does not understand.
She steps around him, causing a heat shrill up his spine. His body reacting in ways that he could not comprehend. What was she doing to get his body to change and form into something menacing with a heaviness between his legs that was newly pleasurable? He doesn't lean into her almost angry that she was controling him in this way.
But he doesn't lean away either. He liked the sensations to much for that. His body felt like it was out of his control. I am looking for something. He states it with a agression that only full grown male posesses. But with the newly discovered aspects of maleness being discovered in that moment he had that right.
He blinks looking at her as she stops next to him still pressed into him. In the few moments of stillness he takes advantage. Leaning towards her a little his nostrils reaching to scent at her hide. I'm Kryten Harley. He smiles at her tasting her name on his lips. It had a nice ring to it. What are you doing out here?
